


The One in Which Crowley Tastes Like Cookies and Castiel Is a Bookstand

by Davechicken, ElDiablito_SF



Series: Godstiel and Crowleypants (Do The Sex A Lot) [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Choking, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Marking, Oral Sex, don't do this at home, supernatural sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 13:17:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas and Crowley continue to have lots of sex, to the detriment of the sanity of the reader and other innocent bystanders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One in Which Crowley Tastes Like Cookies and Castiel Is a Bookstand

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: there is choking and other behavior that one should not engage in lightly. However, these are supernatural beings and they can do whatever they like, since they obviously get off on it (and each other).

“Boss says I’m to give you this,” says a sullen looking demon inhabiting a rather depressed looking UPS guy. He hands over a magnificent huge tome. It’s leather-bound with gilt writing. Heavy with the weight of words.

Emblazoned on the spine and cover is the proud title. ‘How To Take Souls and Influence People (Whilst Being Utterly Fabulous)’ by Crowley. Inside a little handwritten note peeks out. 

_’Read up, Godstiel. we have to get that stench of heaven off your pretty little wings. Time to roll you in the dirt a few times._

_Love, Crowleypants.’_

Before the UPS-demon’s trail is cold, a blood-red flash that hurts the corner of a casual observer’s eyes comes and goes, leaving the author of the message in its wake.

“Tell me when you’ve finished reading it, darling. We could do with more souls to light the dance-floor. Daddy wants to dance.”

“Sweetheart,” Cas replies. “I read at the speed of God. Done. Let’s start reaping what they’ve sown.” 

Crowley’s ever-present smirk deepens. “I love it when you talk blasphemy. Go on. Take the name in vain again. Take it good and hard. I need some spice in my life - these demons are so _samey_.”

Cas’ eyes grow soft as he approaches Crowley, sinks to his knees and starts to gently nuzzle against his demonic lover’s devilish balls.

Oh, well, if that’s what he gets for presents maybe Crowley will give them more often. He shoves his balls into Cas’ lovely mouth. “Less talking, more sucking. If I wanted you to speak I’d be in your ass, studmuffin.”

Cas is only too happy to give Crowley’s balls a nice, long, thorough licking. “Mmmm… Crowley, you taste like cookies.”

“...oh, you say the sweetest things,” the demon purrs, grabbing the back of his angel’s head and holding him in place. 

Castiel moans wantonly around his lover’s balls, revelling in the feel of them, heavy against his tongue. “Mmmmm…” He wants to rile Crowley up a bit more, so he presses closer and licks the taint, batting his eyelashes with manufactured coyness.

Crowley coils his fingers through his lover’s floppy and very useful hair. “How many angels do you think I can get to dance on the head of my pin, Cassie?” He cocks his head, curious.

Castiel grabs onto Crowley’s shapely ass as he comes up for air. “None. I’ll destroy any other angel who tries to get close to your pin. Mine.” To emphasize his point, he deepthroats Crowley’s cock, groaning out his pleasure around it as if he’s been thinking about it all day. Perhaps he has, he won’t admit to it either way.

Even better. Crowley purrs at the lovely, little slut on his prick, tugging Cas’ hair enough to make his eyes sting. “Good boy. Although you’re going to have to prove your worth if you want me to consider it a good deal.” He arches one brow. Cas better bloody know what he means.

Cas knows what Crowley likes, so he gets his cock nice and slobbery, bobbing up and down on it like the cockslut that he’s become for his new partner. “You talk too much, Crowley,” he mumbles and goes back to work.

A tut of annoyance. “If you sucked better, then maybe I would be more focussed.” Crowley moves his hand to grab the angel by the throat, choking it closed around the cock he shoves back down it. It makes it a nice, tight fuck and he curls his toes in his perfectly chosen shoes at the sensation.

Much though Cas would love to make a sassy remark, it seems unfeasible due to the vociferous throat fucking he’s on the receiving end of. Still, he’s not one to be deterred by mechanics, so he inserts his voice inside Crowley’s head.

“You make me hot when you’re such a fucking asshole.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Crowley laughs. “I know I get your little panties in a twist. I bet you can’t wait for me to rip them off, can you?” He wonders which panties they are today. He could peek, but it would ruin the fun.

“I’m gagging for your cock, you bastard,” Cas responds in the same psychic fashion. “Literally. _Of course_ I can’t wait for you to rip my panties off.”

More attitude. Oh, Crowley gets off on that more than the mouth on his swollen dick. “Make it good for me, princess, and I’ll rip them off and remind you why I’m King of Hell.” Even if he’d be doing it for himself anyway, there’s no need to show his hand.

Cas slobbers greedily all over Crowley’s prick, taking it out and giving it long, thorough licks. “Is this what you want, big boy?” Cas asks as he tongue-fucks the slit.

Okay. Maybe it is time to show his hand. “Yes,” Crowley hisses. “Now stand up. It’s time I gave you Hell.”  
Slowly, Cas slips his mouth off Crowley’s meatbone. “I thought you’d never ask.” He stands up, languidly sliding his body flush against Crowley as he rises.

The demon runs his hands all over Cas, taking the proximity as all the excuse he needs, using his slow rising to add to the friction and reduce the effort. He pushes one hand lower, the fingers teasing under the waistband to Cas’ briefs. His other hand moving up to wrap back around that delicious throat, pushing his head back. 

“Say ‘please’.”

Cas swallows and strains into the touch with his own growing hardness. “Dammit Crowley.”

The wicked smile goes shit-eating wide, and Crowley runs that finger around to the front of his waistband. Tugging teasingly, gently.

"Now, now, angel. You know I'm already damned. I'm as damned as you. Talking naughty to me just makes this take longer..." He feels the way Cas' throat works, and it just makes his own mouth run dry. Deciding he's had enough teasing - for now - he slides his hand down into his pants and rubs warm fingertips through the patch of hair. Okay maybe he's not done teasing just yet.

Cas looks down to where Crowley's hand is disappearing inside his slacks and bites his lower lip. He looks back up at Crowley with pleading eyes on the verge of tears. "Fine... damn you... Please. _Please_."

Crowley loves it when people beg. He loves it when that fire of need kindles behind their eyes. It's why he took this gig in the first place. Why he enjoys his job so very much. That and the screaming. 

Even better to see an angel like this. He can't resist (it's selfish, right? Sure...) and he lets his hand reach inside Cas' briefs. Enjoys the swallowing against his palm as he wraps certain fingers around his straining cock. Uses nothing but his thumb over his length. 

"What will you give me, my _God_?" he sneers. "Tell me."

Cas is more powerful than this. He has more power coursing through his being than ever. Then why? Why does it feel so good to surrender? To allow Crowley to take him apart like this? He wants Crowley. Wants to fall apart on his cock. So very badly.

"Anything," he whispers, blushing from his cheeks all the way down to his own straining erection. "Everything. Whatever you want. Need to feel your hands all over me."

The power-high is driving Crowley mad. He feels like he rules all of creation, not just the dark and hungry underbelly. He feels like anything and everything is his. If Cas is God and he has God? Fuck Lucifer. He was an amateur. Crowley knows he's the real deal. 

"Offer me the sun," he suggests. "Keep it from the sky for me. Let the whole world cower in the dark until I let them see." His hand starting to stroke feverishly fast over his angel's cock. Balls to tip. Fingernails scraping over delicate, delicious skin. He won't be able to restrain himself much longer. Not when Castiel - his Castiel - is so beautiful and hungry. Christ but Crowley would Fall all over again if he had to. Just to tap that perfect ass. 

Cas closes his eyes, mouth falling slightly open with only soft sighs escaping his lips as he feels the torturous give and take of Crowley's touch. He hums softly and wraps his arm around Crowley, pulling him closer, flush against his own body. "Fuck the sun," he gasps. "You can take it. Just as soon as you take me, you infuriatingly smug asshole."

Crowley backs Cas against the nearest wall - staying in close and personal - jerking him off with the skill only several hundred years of practice can give. 

"You say the nicest things," he drawls, worrying over the head of his cock with clever, wicked fingers. He leans in and licks a rough swipe over the perma-stubbled jaw. He tastes of humans and Heaven and Hell in one. He tries not to, but he just tastes too damn good and Crowley has to bite the curve where his neck meets his shoulder. Bite down hard. It won't mark, but it doesn't stop him trying his damndest.

Cas gives a little whelp at that, his knees buckling. His vessel's neck appears to be more sensitive than he realized. Cas' cock gives a little joyful jump in Crowley's grip. "You can have the stars too if you hurry this up a bit," Cas whispers into Crowley's ear, taking the demon's lobe gently between his teeth and pulling on it.

Those teeth feel good and Crowley isn't afraid to show it. He growls in pleasure, and - oh, _fuck_ it. With one last shove into the wall, he drops to his knees in front of Castiel. 

"I didn't sign all deals on the lips," he points out as he holds Cas' cock still. Still enough to place an open-mouthed kiss to the tip. Still enough to worry the very nice flesh between said lips with his devil's tongue.

He beams down at Crowley with a warm gaze. "Hello lover." Cas runs his fingers through Crowley's hair, grasping tightly and pulling him closer. "You look great on your knees too, you know."

"Watch your lip or I'll forget I like this and bite you," Crowley replies, ignoring as best he can how that tone and those hands make him feel. It's selfish. It is. 

He flicks his tongue out and toys with the slit, hand slowly pumping up and down. Cas tastes good (selfish, selfish) so it's fine to wrap his lips around him and suck. To push his dick into the roof of his mouth and run his tongue underneath.

"God!" Cas moans out, mentally checking himself. But then again, what the hell else is he supposed to yell instead of his Father's name? His own? _Oh Cas? Myself?_ He chuckles involuntarily, bucking back into the heat of Crowley's very expert mouth. 

"You..." he pants, breath coming in quick short gasps. "Oh... yes... you're so... good at this. Uhhhhh.... Crowley..."

Of course I'm good at this, Crowley wants to say. I've done it enough. Instead he suckles like Cas is the best thing in the world and bobs his head up and down as he fucks his mouth with said cock. He shifts from holding it to slowly rolling his balls in his hand. After all, he can swallow all of him... so he does.

Oh, sweet celestial glory, Cas tries to suppress a high-pitched moan, but fails. No one has ever sucked his cock this well before. There's a reason he keeps coming back to Crowley, to his talented mouth, to his virtuoso fingers that play him like a violin. And, of course, the best thing about getting head from a demon is that, much like angels, they don't need to breathe.

"Fuck!" Cas exclaims, feeling the pressure building in his balls as Crowley toys with them and deepthroats him.

Because he can, Crowley swallows around him for good measure. Because he can, he presses his teeth in so when he moves up and down he scratches hot pink lines over that hot pink prick. And because he wants to feel him shattering, he tugs hard on his balls and shoves a finger from his other hand behind them and into him. What's a little prostate massage between friends?

Well, Cas figures, as he begins the steady stream of unloading down Crowley's throat with a guttural cry, if he didn't want to be getting throat full of angel cum, he wouldn't have done that. He moans and slides bonelessly down the wall. Crowley looks smug again, and, truth be told, Cas loves that look on him.

"Come here," he says gruffly, pulling Crowley's face closer to his own.

Crowley loves the sound Cas makes when he comes. Loves the taste. The feel. Loves... The sex, okay. Crowley looks as pleased as a demon can be. A demon who knows he's about to get his own. He puts his hands on Cas' shoulders and presses in close. He swallowed most of his cum but there's still the taste of him in his mouth.

Crowley's eyes are amber-brown with a spark of insanity. Just the way Cas likes. He presses his lips to his demon lover's skilled mouth and tastes himself as he probes with his tongue, gently at first. Cas' fingers tug at Crowley's hair, holding him close. It would be comforting, and it is, in a way. Cas is comforted in the knowledge that any second now this moment of halcyon bliss will break into a thousand pieces and Crowley will eat him alive. Cas wants him to. Perhaps they're both mad, but this folie-a-deux gives him raging boners that last for eternities. 

Crowley decides he can let his soppy angel kiss him for a moment. Mostly because it's hot for his tongue to stroke in his mouth. And because he's in a good mood. 

But he won't sit still forever. Not when his own cock is still hard and remembering that mouth. He grabs Cas and shoves him down and sideways, straddling him smoothly and bumping his cock and balls over the angel's chin and lips. "Come on, you cockslut. Finish what you started. You got yours and Daddy's still horny."

Castiel feels complacent. His eyes go dark with want and the knowledge of being wanted. He lets his jaw slacken and his tongue snakes out, laving a long line over the sensitive underside of Crowley's cock.

"I promised you the sun and the stars," he whispers, breath hot against his lover's delicate skin. He can feel Crowley about to break and fuck his throat of his own accord. He cocks his head to the side, tongue lazily drawing along the curves of Crowley's head, and waits.

"Yes, you did. And if you don't deliver on me seeing both I'll make the plague of locusts look like a crappy daytime gameshow. And you know I hate daytime TV."

He doesn't give him a chance to respond verbally, though, grabbing his ears and pushing past that lovely mouth and past his teeth. His angel doesn't need air to breathe, so he can swallow this instead. Crowley's already randier than a prude on his wedding night, so he knows he can do this quick and dirty. Doesn't mean he won't savour being effortlessly brutal - and knowing Cas would be gagging if he was a mere mortal only makes this so much better. 

"Magic, Castiel, time for magic..."

Cas shuts his eyes and inhales the musky scent of his lover's arousal, the short curly hairs tickling his nose. He swallows several times around the engorged meat down his throat, knowing how crazy that drives Crowley, and is rewarded with a tighter grasp on his hair. He hums around Crowley's cock, sending vibrations through it, and swallows again, for good measure.

Crowley could drag it out, it's true. Could just take up permanent residency in his throat. Could keep this up indefinitely (pun most certainly intended). But as much as he likes torturing other people, he likes pleasing himself. And it's certainly pleasing to smack Cas' head to the ground to stun him before using his hair to yank him all the way over his cock until he's sliding into that very nice throat. Maybe Cas' voice will go deeper through regular abuse. God but Crowley hopes so. 

He grunts - not trusting himself to words - and throws his head back in triumph as he spills hot, sticky demon-happies down the back of Castiel's throat. He thanks - okay he doesn't thank - God that supernatural beings can still get their rocks off. But if he was going to say thanks for anything, the ability to feel like _that_ would be on the short list of things. 

And then he's spent and panting, sitting back on his haunches and just... revelling in the cooling sweat and nicely tired buzz. And still pinning Cas down.

Cas swallows and grins. He's definitely the cat that got the cream. He feels strangely satisfied and soothed with Crowley's weight still pressing him into the floor. He opens his eyes, appreciatively raking them over Crowley's form, and licks his lips.

"Satisfied? Or merely contemplating your next move?" There's a twinkle in his eye which he isn't even trying to suppress. His eyebrow twitches upwards in silent invitation. 

Crowley tilts his head, eyes slitted and curious. "Cas, baby, did you even get any tail before my - admittedly superior - ass? The way you go at it anyone would think sex had just been invented. And I _strongly_ suspect angels aren't all ascetic."

He wipes a tiny smudge of saliva from Cas' mouth with his thumb, the gesture possessive and - no. Not fond. Just practical. 

"You want me to continue to ravish you, darling?"

Cas practically purrs, deep down in his throat, and catches Crowley's thumb with his teeth. Gently, mind you, and keeps it there just long enough to flick against the pad of the thumb with his tongue.

"Thought we weren't supposed to be calling it 'ravishing' - too maudlin for you."

He will ignore Crowley's other statement. Cas may or may not have had occasion for exploration of sexual escapades, but there's no reason for Crowley to be in on the details. Besides, no one's ever made him feel like this. So wrong that it aches with rightness. His eyes glow dark again and he arches his neck, exposing the taught, tender column to the air and Crowley's curious gaze.

"Whore," Crowley admonishes, but with far too much smugness. He won't lie that seeing Cas so wanton and lustful for him is like a jerk off of the ego. 

"Fine. How does 'devour' sound? 'Consume'? 'Titillate'?" He pulls his thumb from Cas' mouth to slide it over the whipcord tendons running down his neck. Moves to press over his pulse-point. Hearts still work in vessels. He presses until he can feel the dance of his blood under his thumb. 

He's in no rush now, planning on enjoying the sensuality of sin. Maybe he can fit in most of the ten reverse-psychology commandments tonight. "Tell me when to stop." Not that he will. He shuffles back enough that he can lean down and flicker his tongue over the jump of pulse.

Cas emits a small noncommittal grunt and strains towards the feel of Crowley’s tongue and fingers on his neck. His eyes fly open and he watches his lover with a mix of intense curiosity and desire, as if he wants to see how far Crowley will go, how much can he make Crowley lose that legendary self-control of his. He reminds himself that at any moment, he could make Crowley explode with just a flick of his fingers. But he'd much rather see if he can make Crowley explode some other way. His fingers tangle in Crowley's tie, grasping and holding, but not pulling. 

Crowley bemoans the way this is ruining the line of his very nice suit, but he does enjoy his tie being played with. It's nicely phallic and he's all about the cock. It is what he sold his soul for, at the end of the day. 

He licks and then presses a sharp circle of teeth, sucking at the sensitive flesh underneath. Even as he starts working on baring Cas' chest the old-fashioned way. Cas needs to be more naked. So Crowley can lick him. All over.

Cas is very much on board with these developments, each nip of Crowley's teeth sending bright trails of desire through his vessel. He pulls on the tie, needing Crowley closer, even as the demon fumbles with the numerous buttons of his suit and shirt. Crowley has very nice lips, Cas thinks, not for the first time that day.

"Cas, my little Christmas tree topper, if I don't get you naked soon I'm going to do things I regret," he says against his angel's lips. 

He doesn't fight the hand on his tie, though, and carries on peeling back cotton to let his hands push below. 

"We wouldn't want you to experience an emotion like regret, dearest," Cas breathes against Crowley's lips, eyes watching attentively as Crowley's fingers proceed undaunted into the layers of his clothing. He wants to feel those hands flush against his skin, but he doesn't feel like helping. He enjoys letting Crowley do all the work, feeling like a gift being unwrapped. His nipples perk up at the thought of what Crowley might do once enough skin has been revealed. He yanks on the tie roughly, taking Crowley's lower lip between his teeth, tugging gingerly.

Crowley finally gets all the clothing spread out like a suit-angel beneath his real one. He did want to be licking it (not the suit) but it will have to wait. Wait because Cas has his mouth and that's okay for now. He runs his tongue over Cas' lip, encouraging him to keep at it. 

Although the fingers grabbing and twisting his nipples may be a bit of an underhanded move to get more open-mouth action.

Cas bites harder, not enough to break skin, but enough to make Crowley's lower lip swell a bit more in his mouth, like some tasty exotic berry. It reminds him in texture of lychees, but not as sweet. Cas moans from the tug at his tender nubs and slackens his jaw, hoping Crowley will fuck his mouth with his tongue as he just did with his fat cock. His eyes are shut, mind empty. There must be something he should be worrying about. Sinners sinning. Treacherous boys with their pointy toys. But, no, he'd rather stay right here on the floor, boneless from Crowley's expert ministrations.

Either Crowley is slightly psychic or they're just on the same page. Whichever is true, he lazily pushes his tongue into Cas' mouth. Flickering inside it and stroking slow like a demon who knows his way around. 

He leaves off his angel's nipples and scratches blunt fingernails down his flanks and in, skirting over the slightest jut of hip bone. His pants are still undone but on, and it's strangely exciting to have him half bare. 

His fingers idly draw the start of some sigil or other on Cas' lovely taut stomach. The Enochian equivalent of 'fuck off he's mine'.

Cas laughs at the ghosting of Crowley's fingers over his abdomen, recognizing the marking.

"Darling," he opens his eyes and releases Crowley's mouth from his own. "I had no idea. So romantic." He lets go of the tie to run his freed hand through Crowley's soft, short hair. It's nice to know that Crowley must be getting off on this as much as he is - after all their false starts, one could never be sure.

"I don't share," he points out. "Your ass is mine. No one else's. And I'll destroy anyone who touches what's mine."

To make sure he gets the picture, Crowley puts his palm flat over the mark and makes the lines burn fire-hot briefly. No visible mark. Just one for Cas' mind. He drops his head to the dusky little bullets standing to attention and starts licking them. He's going to lose his patience soon, but he can hold out a little longer.

Cas gasps at the brief burn and chuckles - possessive is his favorite flavor of Crowley. The wet heat of Crowley's mouth on his sensitized flesh sends waves of pleasure straight to his cock. It gives a little twitch in anticipation.

"I know, lover," Cas' fingers card through Crowley's hair, massaging the nape of his neck, "No one else touches. Although I thought you still wanted Dean Winchester to watch." He can feel the tightening of teeth around his nipple at that, and smiles to himself again. He loves being able to get Crowley's goat. You don't bed the Devil without having a few tricks up your own sleeve.

"That human is too up his own arse for his own good. It would be a kindness to fuck you with your hands pressed to the windshield of his precious Impala. With him inside. And the doors locked."

That just makes his blood burn again and in next to no time he's up and off him, grabbing Cas by the nape of his neck like a lost puppy and flinging him down face-first. Two hands grabbing Cas' clothed ass and groping hard. _His._ The thought of Dean watching? Oh that makes his black soul sing.

For a moment, Cas only feels it in suspended animation, then suddenly the crashing of the floor beneath him feels like an earthquake. Mmmm yes, he's done well. Crowley's hands are tugging at him now and he can feel his vessel's heart beating like a caged bird trying to escape its confinement. He's going to get wrecked and he can hardly wait.

"What if he enjoyed the show?" Cas asks, grinding his straining cock into the floorboards.

"He would," Crowley points out. "I was the King of the Crossroads before I was King of Hell. I know all about dirty little secret desires." He yanks Cas' pants down to bare his butt-cheeks. 

"He'll try to ignore it. Try to stop it. Scream to God for help. But in reality his pretty little prick will scream louder, wishing your lips were wrapped around it as I fuck you insensate." 

Crowley's teeth latch on and bite down on said ass. Hard. And he sucks for all he's worth. Maybe he can at least temporarily brand his mouth and name onto his hide.

Cas growls like an animal, thrusting backwards with his hips. It's doubly titillating, having Crowley all keyed up, and picturing Dean's princess green eyes going all dark with want. But no. Fuck that traitor. Perhaps he _should_ let Crowley fuck him right through the hood of the Impala: that'll show him. 

"Want you to fuck me," Cas finally blurts out. "Want your demon stench all over me. Isn't that what you want too?"

Crowley snorts. "In due time. Of course I want to roger you sideways. You're a filthy, dirty, nasty excuse for an angel."

First, though, he pulls his cheeks apart roughly and pushes his tongue inside of Cas. Holding him down as he fucks him thoroughly with a tongue longer than God intended. He laps at his insides, wanting to pull squirms out of him and taste the delicious blackness of Cas' celestial fall. It tastes like mana. Okay no, it tastes like ass. Whatever.

Cas whimpers, actually whimpers, like some kind of puppy (a pile of which he needs to kill for their future sexual encounter: note to self). He claws at the floor boards with his nails, the cold roughness of it clinging to his sensitized nipples. 

"Crowley... fuck..." is about all he can manage. He loves it when his King of Hell lays his claim to his body in such selfless ways. 

"I _have_ been a nasty, dirty angel," Cas pants. "I deserve to be punished."

Crowley pauses and pulls back. "This is true, my strawberry cheesecake. You're wicked. Which probably means I shouldn't fuck you. I should probably tie you butt-naked and covered in jam in with some ugly monkeys."

That's not particularly sexy. Okay. It sort of is. But also not. Damnit. 

"Maybe I should make you suffer first..." He makes a show of sitting back and snapping his fingers. A very large playbook of satanic punishments in a cheery yellow binding is the result. "Hang on. I know I'll find the right one." He props the book on Cas' ass and leafs through it, slowly. "...that one needs some flesh-eating bacteria and isn't very quick. No... That one is an affront to root vegetables. No... Not that. I _like_ figure-skating..."

Cas is propped up on his elbows now, his ass in the air to be used as Satanic podium of sorts for Crowley. A sideways smirk crosses his face.

"Look well, my sugarplum. I've had very impure thoughts. About Dean..." he pauses with sinister intent. "His egregiously overgrown brother too. Oh, and even a couple of your Hellhounds."

"I'm not your priest," Crowley drawls. "I'm not going to give you ten Hail Marys and tell you to be a good boy." Although...

"Maybe if you tell me some of these impure thoughts, I will be able to devise a fitting punishment. In graphic detail please."

Cas laughs at that. Much though he likes to flex his imagination muscle, he wants Crowley inside him even more. Still, he doesn't mind spouting a few choice baubles of prurience.

"Well... Sometimes, there I am... splayed out on the backs of your Hellhounds, thighs akimbo, taking it in the ass like a pro, just the way you taught me. Dean is balls deep inside me, that dumb blissed-out look on his face, like he can't believe Christmas and the Fourth of July came early. While I'm sucking his brother's cock into my mouth." He pauses, noting the rapt attention with which Crowley's listening. He can practically hear the demon's pupils dilate. "But sometimes I'm just getting mounted and knotted by your Hellhounds and the Winchesters aren't even there." 

"You saucy minx," is all Crowley will say, but his voice is a very, _very_ low purr. Continental plate grinding against continental plate low.

He slams the book shut. 

"You do realise if you let _any_ of those boys touch you, that I'd be honour-bound to wrap your dick up in a box and feed it to one of my lovely doggies?"

Cas laughs at that, a loud and lusty guffaw.

"I love you too, my dulcet darling!" he purrs, spreading his thighs wider, and arching his back like a cat.

Cas' voice is low and soaked through with barely fettered lust.

"You love it when I beg for your cock..."

"I do," he confirms. "Which is why you should be doing it. Right now. I am a busy demon. I have other things I could be doing than wait for your mouth to catch up with your libido, my little Kate Winslet."  
“I don't understand that reference," Cas puffs out and arches his back again. "Fine." He changes the tone of his voice, pitching it somehow even lower and honey-smooth. "Crowley, my pet... Need to feel your fat cock inside me. Riding me. Making me Hell's bitch."

Fingers snap. If he wants to be a bitch... he can wear a collar like one. A pink one. With spikes and diamonds. And a nice little tag saying 'If Lost, Please Return To Hell'.

"Only one of us is the pet, my lovely. And I'm not domesticated." He yanks hard on the leash attached to said collar, and pushes forwards and _in_ at the same time.

Cas shuts his eyes and hums softly, welcoming the blissful feeling of being so full and claimed at once. Freedom was a length of rope after all, and what better way to use it than to be all hog-tied and bound to someone's hard cock. He doesn’t want freedom anymore - he wants _this_.

"Ohhhhh yes... please... more..." he moans and throws his head back, following the tug of the leash, biting his lower lip so hard that it bleeds.

Crowley likes Cas' ass. It's a very nice ass. It's all warm and nice. And all the things an ass should be. Like his. (And did he mention: nice.)

"Bark for me, little Hellhound..." Hand on his hip as well as on the thin strand of leather, using them for leverage as he does the thing where he puts his cock deeper in the thing. And again. Yeah. That's what cocks do. And his is good at it, he knows.

Oh, but that's going too far. The noise that comes out of Cas is more like a whinnying than anything else. But _fuck_ , Crowley's got his cock in him and it keeps pressing against that hidden spot inside his vessel, the one that makes him scream, so he does. He screams, a cry of torturous joy.

Close enough, Crowley supposes. He can train Cas to be a good bitch later. Maybe with milkbones as encouragement. And maybe a pretty little bow to make him look utterly ridiculous. It's a shame no mortals see how he dresses up his Hellhounds. They would be even more terrified if they could.

Crowley's fingernails dig into Cas' hip as he delivers on his promise to himself to be the best. The very best. Like no one ever was. Catching and training new divinities and all. He hums happily to himself as he continues to do the thing. 

And then all of a sudden... bam.

Oh look. They're somehow on a car. A nice car. It's old but well loved. A classic, you might say. Crowley continues to hum to himself as he fucks Cas over the Impala.

What the actual Hell. Cas feels heated metal beneath his skin, his cock jumps from the unexpected feel of grating pressed up all along his tender boner. As for his ass, it's well on its way to being tenderized.

"Crowley... what…?"

Well, why not then? They call it the Impala for a reason, don't they? Cas could see the poetry to it, getting Impaled on the Impala. He opens one eye carefully and looks through the windshield.

"Love you, too, Cas," Crowley coos at him and with a final shunt he spills deep inside his angel. He wriggles around for good measure.

And then vanishes from inside him with his laughter fading out Cheshire-Cat style, and leaving Cas to deal with a very shocked looking Winchester.

Crowley is nothing if not considerate.

FIN


End file.
